


The Dried Rose

by TheGeniusCallsYou



Series: War Roses [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Lost in the Mail, Round 2 entry, Rumbelle - Freeform, Rumbelle Showdown 2020 (Once Upon a Time), War AU, light - Freeform, no magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25627903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGeniusCallsYou/pseuds/TheGeniusCallsYou
Summary: There were a few universal truths passed on around the town by older women, but there was one repeated the most - Don’t fall in love with a soldier as in all probability, you won’t see him coming back from the front.Belle had truly believed this truth; she really had. But her heart had done what it had wanted, not asking for permission, and throwing her into the ocean of emotions, not teaching her how to swim beforehand. Now, she was paying the consequences as others looked at her with pity in their eyes, as if to say we had told you so.
Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Series: War Roses [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1857730
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	The Dried Rose

**Author's Note:**

> My Round 2 Entry for Rumbelle Showdown 2020 written under the penname Orion.  
> Prompts: Light; Lost in the mail
> 
> I do plan to write more in this verse, so I've made it a part of the series, keep an eye out for more :)
> 
> Enjoy!

There were a few universal truths passed on around the town by older women, but there was one repeated the most - Don’t fall in love with a soldier as in all probability, you won’t see him coming back from the front.

Belle had truly believed this truth; she really had. But her heart had done what it had wanted, not asking for permission, and throwing her into the ocean of emotions, not teaching her how to swim beforehand. Now, she was paying the consequences as others looked at her with pity in their eyes, as if to say we had told you so.

It was a peculiar thing - heartbreak. There was truth in what people said, that you couldn’t imagine the feeling unless you experience it. To some, it was a sudden, crushing thing, as part of their soul was ripped apart, but to Belle, it had been a graduate process. Day by day, the sliver of hope she’d cherished for so long threatened to slowly die out as cruel reality trampled it into the ground time and time again. Soon there would be a hollow emptiness where her heart had once been, leaving her nothing but a shell of a person she had been before. 

She didn’t want it to be true, and she refused to believe it. Because how could she? Even if the facts were just before her eyes, how could she ever accept that the love of her life had died?

But the facts were merciless. The war had ended, and to the delight of her father, Sargent Garry Gaston, the one man Belle had hoped not to see again in her life, had come back. Captain Roy Gold hadn’t.

She’d waited in vain for a letter to come and deny it. To say that the bloodied and torn uniform jacket Gaston had brought back with him as proof to his words had been a misunderstanding. That Roy was alive and well, not shot and caught in a grenade blast, his body lying in a ditch somewhere, forgotten.

The days turned into weeks, weeks into months, but nothing changed.

No letters came. 

Not even one.

And the jacket was his. Belle couldn’t deny that one fact. His initials embroidered by her own hand and their crumpled photograph in the breast pocket were proofs enough.

The second worst part was, nobody missed him: that is nobody but Belle. Brusque, and sarcastic with others Roy Gold had been a difficult man to like, but Belle had always had an inkling there was more to that man than just his cold exterior. How else could she have explained his soft smiles and warm eyes, that seemed to be reserved only for her? While Gary’s approach of winning her heart had been more similar to a peacock bragging with his attributes, Gold’s had been eternally different. He had watched her from afar, admiring as if she was a miracle which existence he couldn’t have believed in, afraid to make a move.

Belle still remembered the warm feeling in her chest as she had found a single red rose on her doorstep, and spotting captain Gold softly smiling at her from the other side of the street. It had been the first rose of the many given in the same fashion. 

She still had it, that first flower - dried between the pages of her favourite book. The same one she was now clutching in her white-knuckled grip while sitting on the riverbank in their usual spot. Away from the prying eyes, just the two of them in their little sanctuary. It’d been here when he plucked up the courage to kiss her for the first time and where they bared their souls to each other. Here, with her, he rarely had needed to hide behind the walls so well-crafted for others. And while the world torn into pieces, they were each other’s flickers of light amidst an ocean of darkness.

Belle took a deep breath and opened the book, feeling her eyes well up with tears when it revealed the dried rose together with a small photograph. With a sad, wavering smile, she traced her finger over Roy’s features. He had his arms around her, hugging her close, looking down at her with that soft smile of his. It was almost the same photograph as the one he’d been carrying in his jacket, both taken on the same day. She carefully lifted the photo from the book, then brought it to her lips, kissing it as the tears rolled down her cheeks. Was she stupid to still hope he was alive and his letters telling her he was coming back just lost in the mail? 

Belle wanted to believe in it, but with every day, it was becoming harder and harder to do just that. Yet, as she laid down on the grass, burying her face in his tattered jacket, that she’d brought with her, she couldn’t help but remember the last time they had met on this same spot. The bittersweet memory surrounded her as soon as she closed her eyes and Belle drifted off, letting it engulf her.

_“You don’t need to wait for me. I won’t hold it against you."_

_The sun was slowly setting over the riverbank, bashing both of them in the soft, red glow as they lay on the grass in each other’s arms. Roy wasn’t looking at her, but at the sky above. His fingers absently played with the strand of her hair as the other held hers over his heart. She could feel the tension rolling off him in waves, his heart beating a little too fast under her palm. She frowned in puzzlement then moved to prop herself on her elbow, lifting her head from his chest to get a better look at his face._

_"Why shouldn’t I?”_

_His mouth twisted in wry amusement._

_“You deserve a lot more than to worry about the likes of me.”_

_Her frown deepened as she tried to figure out where his thoughts had come from._

_“I’m exactly where I want to be.”_

_He shook his head, his fringe covering his eyes, and she resisted the urge to reach and brush it aside. He would have to cut it before tomorrow, his haircut no longer at the regulation length._

_“I’m a soldier, Belle. You shouldn’t be bound to someone whose death certificate just awaits to be signed. I’m not worth the trouble.”_

_Both of his arms were now crossed behind his head. If he weren’t lying down, he would look like a prisoner waiting for an execution. This wasn’t how their last night together was supposed to look like. She moved to her knees, shuffling closer to him._

_“Roy? Look at me,” she put her hand on his cheek, waiting until his eyes met hers. “Who told you that?”_

_He sighed, then slowly sat up. Belle patiently waited, watching as different emotions flickered across his face. Finally, his shoulders sagged, and he moved his hand to the chain around his neck. She had seen it before - the small locket he’d never seemed to take off - but now she watched as he removed it from around his neck. He opened it delicately with care and without a word, passed it to her, watching wearily for her reaction. Inside, there was a little photograph of maybe eleven-year-old boy with a vibrant smile and an unruly mop of hair. Even without the colour, she could see the striking resemblance to Roy, especially in eyes._

_“Who’s he?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper._

_“My son. Baylen,” he answered. “He’s almost a grown man now, probably,” he added with something akin to remorse in his voice._

_“What happened?”_

_She watched as pain flickered across his features that he tried to mask as a grimace._

_“My wife or ex-wife, really,” he answered. “She didn’t like the idea of being married to a soldier. Since I would be dead anyway, she took Bae away. I’ve been looking for him ever since.”_

_His voice broke at the end, and she reached out to squeeze his hand._

_“For how long?”_

_“6 years. Feels like forever, to be honest.”_

_Belle moved her hand to his cheek, turning his face in her direction, stroking his stubble. She closed the locket, and even if her eyes were bright with tears, she smiled while hanging it back around his neck._

_“Come back to me,” she said, resting her hand above his heart. “The battlefields couldn’t stop you from looking for your son, and this one won’t either. I’ll wait for you, even if it meant forever. Do you understand, Roy?”_

_He nodded, his eyes bright with emotions she was sure no one else had ever seen. Slowly as if not to spook him, she brought her other hand to the back of his head. She tugged him forward until their foreheads bumped against each other._

_“Come back, and we’ll both look for Baylen. Promise me you’ll try, please,” she whispered with her eyes closed. She could feel his ragged breath brushing her lips and her fingers clenched in his hair while waiting for the answer._

_“I promise.”_

_He was the one who closed the small gap between them kissing her softly yet urgently. She could taste salt from the tears that made their way down between their locked lips._

_Were they hers?_

_His?_

_Theirs?_

_She couldn’t tell._

There was a salty taste in her mouth now, just as then. But there were no soft lips against hers, no hands holding her close as silent sobs wracked her body. Soon Roy’s scent would be gone from the tattered jacket, the photograph would fade, and all she would have as a reminder would be an empty heart and a dried rose. 

But even now, all those months later, she still couldn’t let him go. It didn’t matter how much holding onto this maybe false hope hurt. It didn’t matter how much her father wanted her to move on, and how much Gary was eager to take Roy’s place. 

He had promised, hadn’t he? And so had she.

There was a ghost of a touch on her shoulder, in all probability conjured by her exhausted mind. She didn’t want to open her eyes, knowing that when she would, there would be no one there as it had been before. She wanted to be left alone, dreaming of what had been, waiting for the image to fade. The ghost of the touch became more solid as fingers moved to softly brush the strands of hair that had fallen over her face, and traced the outline of her ear in a familiar gesture.

Was she still dreaming?

“Belle?”

Her whole body went rigid, and her breath hitched upon hearing that voice.


End file.
